primos four course meal
Heheheheheh
Celph Titled the motherfuckin' landmine lieutenant
Back up in this biznatch fo' sho' tho'
Sammy The Sleezebag, what's good, pimptation?
I'm 'bout to show you what happen to MC's that can rhyme
I'm right here, we ain't go no motherfuckin' where
We gon' do it like this
Check it, yeah, yo
Stand back you heard, sir, murders occur
My verbs are disturbed, my curse words are hurtin' you herbs
Alertin' the service, bringin' marines with kerosene flasks
Guns and masks
Jumpin' through glass with sig 229's and mp5's
I rapid fire bustin' spray men
When I was a baby my pacifier was a grenade pin
And yes, I'm from Tampa, no I'm not a Buccaneer
But I'll be buckin near your main arteries ya fuckin queer
The sun is here, cover your eyes
All my attributes is dangerous
My mustache is murderous
My hip bone will send your clique home
With they ribs blown back and they wigs sewn to they six pack
Cartilage in a gift wrap
My cartridge's click-clack and leave you and your bitch clapped
Now your bitch ass need a neck brace with a chin strap
We swing machetes at crews with little ice picks
And niggas 'round my way call me the Cuban Missile Crisis
My raps' not for emo kids
My flamethrower leave you bald head like chemo kids
I ain't a gangsta and a gentleman, I'm one of the two
Don't open doors for bitches, so which one would you choose?
Playboy, make you steak sauce, A1, you gay soft
Not Travolta, but what's in my holster take your Face Off
We about to cake off, my money stacks make the rubber band snap
My number runners gettin' bundles with no government tax
Ain't no 20-80 split
Better give me half or you can get your jaw split
Courtesy of Vinnie Paz
A.O.T.P. or D.E
M.I.G.O.D.Z
Either/or with C4, galore, the heaters pour
I got the fever for some thick skeezers and a need for whores
She got an Applebum, so what the fuck we need Bonita for?
Rappers try to pull my cards I gave 'em a shuffle
Guttermouth took they bodies, so I gave him a shovel
Runnin' ten laps in a second when I'm rappin' on records
Came in the game in '98 and I'm already a legend
Back in the day me and Dutchmassive schemin' just to get in
Now we slingin' wax from 8-1-3 to the Kremlin
Hook line and sinker, my hooks and lines will sink you leagues under the sea
Up my sleeves up under the fleece
No tricks, just a loaded piece, chrome heat
Put you in a coma sleep with a comb over to cope with holes in ya cheek
And I don't care if you worship
I'll put a bullet in your temple
Leave you bent and crippled, wife and kids get sentimental
Ya best soldiers incomparable to my b-team
Fuck Nas mission impossible be my Thief's Theme
Each beam I aim multiplied by eight
You gettin' fucked on your album and gettin raped on mixed tapes
Sidekick with a flipped face and targetin' system
Heat vision like the Predator, I'm slaughterin' victims
The harder I hit 'em, nigga, the better they know
Call up the reverend and we bringin' holy shit to your show
These holy clips leave you wholly split and every ho that I hit
Get baptized in holy water comin' out the hole in my dick
I stay holdin' my dick, you thought I wasn't one of them
Spittin' phlegm on Bibles in God's crib right in front of Him
I'm Iceberg, but not Slim
More like the type of shit that sunk the Titanic
Done irreversible damage
There's no recovery possible, no nurses, no hospitals
No stuffed bears and get well cards, just Celph spittin' Hell's bars
You grew up on a farm with the Amish gettin' they goats from
I'm from the dirty south, but I'm clean so call me soap scum
I'll sell the same shit twice, double dip it and re-up
I ain't married to this rap game, we ain't signin' a prenup
You up late watchin' raunchy cable, and I'mma creep behind your couch
And crack ya motherfuckin' skull on the coffee table
And that's that you crack rats
64 bars like it ain't nothin'! Primo, what up?
We bring that real shit back, that raw shit
You heard the word?
Yo, better say cheese motherfuckers. Before I squeeze motherfuckers 
Motherfucka